


What Draco Got For Christmas

by musingsofaretiredunicorn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas Fluff, M/M, That's literally all this is, that and them reminiscing about their relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-08-27 14:01:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16703800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musingsofaretiredunicorn/pseuds/musingsofaretiredunicorn
Summary: In which it is Christmas Eve, and Harry's presents from Draco follow a familiar theme ...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gemfae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemfae/gifts).



> For geminifaerie—I absolutely loved your prompt about the 12 days of christmas (included in the end notes for slight spoilers), so I ran with it ... in fact, my brain spawned two little plot bunnies, which warred with each other until one won out—but I’ve left the other (admittedly cracky) idea in the form of a headcanon, as a bonus second chapter. I hope you enjoy, as I’ve had heaps of fun creating it! (them?) I wish you the loveliest of holidays <3 <3 <3 ... and a partridge in a pear tree ;) 
> 
> A massive thank-you to [KristinaBird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kristinabird/pseuds/Kristinabird) for the speedy and thorough beta <3 A huge shout-out, as well, to the most excellent mods of this fest, for their kindness in granting me a much-needed extension <3
> 
> As usual, all characters belong to JKR.

_December 24 —_

  
Draco murmured, “ _Lumos_!”   
  
The candles in their living room flickered to life, suffusing the room with a soft glow. They sat on the plush rug in the middle of the room, facing the tree. Harry was transfixed by the glittering enchanted ornaments and wizard-tinsel, which Draco had introduced into their holiday traditions. Wizarding decorations liked to rearrange themselves hourly for optimal sparkle—but the real surprise was the mound of packages haphazardly stacked beneath the shimmering display.   
  
Harry spoke, softly, so as not to break the festive spell which had descended over both of them.   
  
“You know, I was skeptical about the whole tradition of stumbling around in the dark to put presents under the tree, but it is exciting when the lights turn back on, to finally see a pile of gifts there.”   
  
Draco reached for Harry’s hand—though Harry hadn’t said it, he was sure Draco knew that part of that excitement was also due to all of the Christmases that the Dursleys had prevented him from enjoying, as a child.   
  
Draco squeezed, then said dryly, “Well, they’re not there to be looked at, _Potter_. Go on then, open one.”   
  
Harry smiled sheepishly, then crawled to the tree and grabbed the first package with his name on it—a medium-sized box that rattled slightly.   
  
“Maybe a different one?”   
  
Harry looked back at Draco, then laid his hand on another package, this one a thin, flat rectangle.   
  
“Er, not that one either, yet …”   
  
Harry sat back on his heels.   
  
“If the order’s so important, maybe you ought to set them out for me.”   
  
Draco huffed, then came over to the tree and began to pull gifts out, lining them up in front of his boyfriend.   
  
Harry smiled fondly at Draco’s fussiness.   
  
“Git.”   
  
“I just want things to go well.” Draco said primly, not looking up at Harry.   
  
Finally, there were eleven small parcels on the floor, in a neat line.   
  
“Is this it?”   
  
“Yes. Have at it.”   
  
Harry lifted the first, a long tube wrapped in deep blue paper that shone gold in the candlelight. He shook it, then eagerly unwrapped it to discover a single wooden drumstick, painted in rainbow stripes. He looked at Draco, bemused.   
  
“What-”   
  
“Next one.”   
  
Harry shrugged, and opened a wrapped-up sphere that released a piece of sheet music. Still confused, he glanced toward Draco, who looked amused.   
  
“I don’t underst-”   
  
“Next.”   
  
The next gift was a bowtie, which, upon further inspection, turned out to be one that he’d seen Draco wear before.   
  
“This is yours? Why-”   
  
“Listen, I won’t answer any questions until you’ve opened all the presents, so you’ve got to keep going.”   
  
Draco had on his stubborn face, so Harry kept unwrapping, only growing more and more perplexed. The presents were all odd and incongruous, but it wasn’t Draco’s style to give joke gifts. He couldn’t fathom what was going on, and so hurried to the end, awaiting Draco’s promised explanation. He finally reached the last two—a tweet of Pansy’s, painstakingly calligraphed on a piece of parchment, and finally a photograph of the two of them from a memorable afternoon a few months past.   
  
“These last two make a bit of sense compared to the others, but that’s not saying much. Please explain?”   
  
Draco sighed. “For Head Auror, you can be pretty thick sometimes. What’s this one?”   
  
He gestured to the picture, which Harry still held.   
  
“A picture of us …”   
  
“Right. Where are we? In the photograph, specifically.”   
  
“Under the pear tree at the Manor?”   
  
“Yes. And what happened after that picture was taken?”   
  
Harry chuckled. “That bird shat on your head. I can still hear the screams … “   
  
Draco looked affronted.   
  
“I was outraged!! How dare that partridge dirty my _hair_?!”   
  
Harry raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think birds can really aim … but also, since when do you know anything about birds?”   
  
Draco looked at the ceiling innocently. “Oh, I don’t know … it just seemed right for it to have been a _partridge_ … after all, it was in a _pear tree_ …”   
  
Harry furrowed his brow. Draco seemed like he was up to something—clearly not something evil, but something cunning nonetheless.   
  
“And the next?”   
  
“Well, what does it say?”   
  
“It’s from that time Pansy said we were worse than two turtle doves for our office PDA …”   
  
Draco smirked at Harry infuriatingly.  “Right. _Two turtle doves_. Hmmmmm.”   
  
Harry looked back at him, blankly, then with a sense of understanding.   
  
“Oh! The Twelve Days of Christmas!”   
  
Draco grinned. “Exactly.”   
  
“Right, so … how do the others connect, then?”   
  
“I think I’ll let you figure that out.”   
  
“Fine.”   
  
Harry started from the first gift he’d opened.   
  
“Twelve drummers … oh! The first pride parade we went to together!”   
  
It had been an excellent day, early in their relationship but so full of laughter and love that they still remembered it as one of their favourite days together.   
  
“The music? For the pipers?”   
  
“Well, I know you can’t read music, but this is from the piece I played when you convinced me to play my flute for you.”   
  
Harry had been gleeful when he had discovered Draco’s musical training, but it had taken him almost two weeks of wheedling until Draco finally agreed to demonstrate his talent.   
  
“I think that might have been the moment I first realized I was in love with you,” Harry said quietly. After a beat, his eyes crinkled and he waggled his eyebrows. “Or after, when you let me blow _your_ flute for the first time …”   
  
“Shut _up_. Don’t involve classical music in your crass innuendoes,” Draco chided with mock seriousness.   
  
Harry snickered, then looked at the next gift.   
  
“Your old bowtie?”   
  
“The one I wore to the ball.”   
  
It had been a memorable event—a stuffy charity gala for Lucius and Narcissa’s social circle. Harry and Draco arrived arm-in-arm. The evening that followed had been a test in their ability to refrain from laughing at the shocked faces of high Pureblood society gaping at the first openly gay couple to be seen in their midst.   
  
“Ah. Lords a-leaping, indeed.”   
  
“Quite.”   
  
“I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look on your father’s face.” Harry said, shaking his head.   
  
“Yes, well, he has stopped looking quite so … constipated … upon further exposure to our relationship,” Draco allowed.   
  
“Could still use a bit of fiber, though. Alright, so next we have … a sequined garter? Nine ladies dancing—is this to represent that drag show we went to on our second date?”   
  
“Exactly!”   
  
“Clever use of ‘ladies’,” Harry smirked, snapping the elastic at Draco’s arm.   
  
“Hey! Do the next one.”   
  
“Always impatient.”   
  
Next, there was a bar of milk chocolate—which led to reminiscing about their holiday in Switzerland a few months previously, to celebrate their one-year anniversary. The highlight had been their trip to a chocolate factory—complete with a demonstration of cow-milking—followed by a chocolate tasting in their suite, during which Harry concluded that his favourite chocolate was any licked directly off of Draco’s skin.   
  
They got a bit distracted while discussing that gift... 

 

  
Breathlessly, Draco pulled away from Harry. “As much as I enjoy kissing you, you’ve still got several gifts to go.”   
  
Pouting, Harry pointed at the next—a pair of goggles.   
  
“This is from when you taught me to swim? I’ll never be as graceful as a swan, but at least I won’t drown now.”   
  
Draco had given him ‘lessons’ for a few weeks, in the Manor’s small lake, after having discovered that Harry had never had the chance to learn to swim, as a child. His method of pedagogy seemed to involve rather more handjobs than might have seemed necessary, but Harry hadn’t complained.   
  
“I’m the swan, in this situation.”   
  
“Beautiful.” Harry smiled.   
  
“But I’ll fuck you up just the same.” Draco said, in an attempt at his old sneer.   
  
“And you truly have.” Harry breathed.   
  
“You _sap_. Move on to the next.”   
  
“This is an egg? A goose egg?”   
  
Draco raised his eyebrows. “A peacock egg, actually. Oh, shut up, Potter. I couldn’t think of anything in our relationship related to a goose—and besides, peacocks are just fashion geese, anyway.”   
  
Harry burst out laughing at that. “Fashionable geese? Don’t let them hear you saying that about them! Merlin.”   
  
Draco failed to look haughty, and laughed as well.   
  
“Why don’t you go back to where you left off earlier, after the two turtle doves?”   
  
Harry was perplexed, but complied.   
  
“Three french hens … oh, a broken wishbone! Is this from the, the-”   
  
He searched for the word.   
  
“ _Poulet rôti_.” Draco supplied.   
  
“Yes, there’s the posh name… the roast chicken we shared at that lovely French restaurant on our first date?”   
  
“Yes.”   
  
“You never told me what you wished for. Has it come true yet?”   
  
Draco stared at him, then glanced downward. “Almost. Next.”

Harry paused, curious, but moved to the last remaining gift when he saw that Draco seemed determined not to look back up at him. He held the toy phone in his hand, musing.  
  
“Four calling birds—ah. All of our phone calls to each other when I was on that bloody away case. Those were my favourite part of the day during that miserable week.”   
  
Draco had overcome his aversion to Muggle technology for the sake of having a non-magical way of communicating with Harry while he was on a stakeout—being Purebloods, the Death Eaters Harry was tracking wouldn’t have known to check for cell signals coming from their warehouse. They’d passed many happy hours chatting, and Harry had asked Draco to be his boyfriend the moment he’d returned safely.   
  
“Thank you, Draco. These were all such excellent memories of our relationship, and-”   
  
“Oh, you’re welcome,” Draco said off-handedly. He swallowed. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”   
  
“Er,” Harry looked down at the presents arrayed before him, scanning them for something he might have missed.”   
  
“Oh, number five is missing! Five gold- Draco! Oh-”   
  
Draco, smiling softly, held out a golden ring, nestled in green velvet.   
  
“Harry James Potter, will you marry me?”   
  
“You absolute wanker!”   
  
Harry engulfed him in a tight hug and began kissing him repeatedly, murmuring, “ _Yes_ , a hundred times yes, Merlin-”   
  
Draco pushed him away, grinning. “At least let me put the ring on you, you git, you almost made me drop it!”   
  
“Well, it’s not every day you get proposed to ..” Harry muttered.   
  
Draco slid the ring onto his finger.   
  
“I’m afraid my gifts aren’t nearly as excellent as yours are…” Harry said softly.   
  
Draco replied, fiercely, “Nonsense. I’ll _Avada_ you if you tell anyone I’ve said so, but as far as I’m concerned, _fiancé_ , being with you is the best gift I could ever wish for.”


	2. a crack-y plot bunny on the same theme ...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Draco also proposes following the 12 days, but far more,, literally

\- so Draco decides to propose w the 12 days of Christmas song ...   
\- but he takes it completely literally  
\- including the repeating and regifting of items on each subsequent day  
\- by the end, harry has a literal fucking pear orchard (“12 trees, Draco! TWELVE!! I DONT EVEN LIKE PEARS!!!”)  
\- the 22 turtle doves are useless, and keep him up at night with their cooing  
\- at least the 30 French hens lay yummy eggs?? But honestly he’s no Gaston he can’t keep up with eating all of them  
\- the 36 calling birds won’t stop CHATTERING at each other, whenever the doves shut up  
\- the rings,,, Merlin. there are so MANY. and Draco got creative with these, gifting harry any and all jewelry that could reasonably be called a ring  
\- (including, on the eleventh day, a cock ring. Harry hadn’t blushed that hard in years.)  
\- mORE EGG-LAYING BIRDS, DRACO?? and can you even eat goose eggs? (harry hopes so, because with 42 birds taking up his guest bedrooms, he doesn’t have room for any more to hatch ! )  
\- ... ok, the magical expansion to his yard was impressive, and it was nice to have a small lake back there now, but didn’t Draco think that maybe 42 swans was a bit many?? those things are FIERCE and now he can’t even go in the backyard at all   
\- so now there’s a barn as well, complete with 40 milkmaids and accompanying cows, and “please, Draco ... how am I meant to use it all up ?!! “   
\- (at this point he starts giving the fresh eggs and milk and pears away to anyone who makes eye contact with him in the street — parents tell their children to beware of the man muttering an old Christmas tune to himself, wandering the village with armfuls of eggs)  
\- from the ninth day onward, Draco outdoes himself   
\- first there are the nine ballerinas dancing on Harry’s doorstep,  
\- joined, on the tenth day, by 10 young boys jumping about   
\- (“I couldn’t convince any actual lords to participate, but their sons were willing enough!”)  
\- joined, on the eleventh day, by 11 expert pipers, playing pretty tunes that turn cacophonous when they mingle with the cries of the birds flocking in harry’s house and yard  
\- joined on the twelfth day, by 12 serious-looking young men, fiercely drumming.  
\- and there Draco kneels, in front of a veritable avian menagerie, 40 milkmaids, 36 dancing ballerinas, 27 leaping lordlings, 22 flautists trilling, and 12 drummers drumming ... presenting harry with the final and 40th ring, asking if harry do him the honour of becoming his husband?  
\- harry accepts, but laughs  
\- “you know, you could have just gone with a nice dinner. i’d have said yes just the same”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk what this was; thanks for reading XD

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the prompt I was working from: "Draco asks some of Harry's friends for advice on proposing/courting him and is told that “The 12 Days of Christmas" lists traditional courting gifts. Established relationship or friendship with growing feelings.”
> 
> Thanks again to the Postmasters for hosting! It's been a blast ^_^


End file.
